


Blue Eyes

by HunterPeverell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, POV Severus Snape, Pre-Harry Potter Series, Well-Meaning Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13300983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HunterPeverell/pseuds/HunterPeverell
Summary: Prompt: Fic about Snape&Dumbledore - This is a complicated relationship in which both men know both the best and worst of each other. It's clear to me that there is deep respect in the way they regard each other, and I do believe they care for each other as well, even as Snape resents everything that Dumbledore asks him to do. I'll love to see more of their relationship when it's not coloured by war - maybe Dumbledore becomes a sort-of mentor to Snape in the years between the first and second war, or in rare moments of peace during the second war.





	Blue Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melody_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melody_Jade/gifts).



> mmouse15 needed some help with stocking stuffers, so here's my contribution!

“Severus.”

A voice cracking with age, a voice that was both his doom and his salvation, a voice that was understanding, so understanding, too understanding.

A voice he hated with every fiber in his being.

He shifted his head just enough to show that he was listening. He did not look at the old man’s face.

“Severus, I know how hard it is.”

Severus said nothing, just pivoted and pushed past the old man. His cloak billowed out behind him, his stride long and unfaltering. The portraits on the walls said nothing to him. He did not spare a glance to the faces of those long dead, nor to the instruments lining the little tables, nor towards the phoenix whose head tilted, regarding him.

He made sure to ignore the sensation of those damned blue eyes following him out the door.

***

“Severus.”

Severus stilled over the cauldron. The old man had had very little reason to visit him, down here in the dark.

The old man was a creature of the Light, one who walked the halls of this old school, humming quietly to himself as he watched the sunlight dapple the ground and the wind slip through hidden cracks and rustle his long hair.

Down here, in the deep, there was none of that. The sun did not shine, the wind did not blow, and the silence was all-encompassing and, if one was not careful, swallowed one whole.

Severus was always careful.

(He ignored the lie laden in that thought.)

“Severus,” the old man said again.

Severus looked up, however unwillingly, to see that the old man had stood much closer than Severus had realized. He did not let his surprise show, instead studying the embroidery on the light blue robes, the way the fabric made little chiming noises when the old man moved his cuffs to fold his hands before him, revealing small golden bells woven into the hems.

The cauldron bubbled, the silence yawned, the two men regarded each other.

“I know,” the old man said gently, so gently, gentle enough to make Severus want to kill him right then and there. “This is a difficult time for you. It is alright to feel, Severus.”

“What would you know?” Severus found himself asking, and immediately cursed himself for opening his mouth.

“I have lived a great deal longer than you have.”

“I do not need to hear this.”

The old man closed his eyes for a moment. “You feel old, Severus, but this is not so. You are young, to have suffered so much.”

Severus said nothing, kept his lips pressed tight in a way reminiscent of McGonagall. He hated that thought and immediately tried to relax. He didn’t know what to _do_ with himself around the old man, who was, yes, older than him and perceptive in a way Severus still hadn’t learned how to shield himself from. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to truly hide from the old man. He felt young beside the old man, for all that his deeds had aged his soul.

“It is alright to ask,” the old man said, breaking into his thoughts.

“I do not need your permission,” Severus found himself snapping. He sounded too much like a petulant child, and the thought of that made him want to claw his vocal chords out.

“Nevertheless,” the old man smiled, “I am giving it to you.”

Severus forced his hands to remain still. He made himself breathe in once, twice. Then he said, “I have worked against you, actively. Why do you care about me?”

“Because,” the old man said. “You are still my student, in so many ways.”

Fury rose in Severus’s throat with such a force he feared he might choke. “I do not need your mentoring.”

The old man hummed his disagreement. “We all still have much to learn. Even I have much to understand. Even I still make mistakes.”

Severus reigned his temper in, reigned his emotions in, reigned his entire being in. Control was key, control was how he would get through this.

“I have no need of your words,” he said, hating how stiff the words came out.

The old man regarded him, blue eyes piercing. Then, so quietly Severus almost lost the words over the sound of the bubbling cauldron, said, “If you say so, Severus.”

“I do,” Severus said and watched the old man give him a small smile, turn on his buckle-booted heels, and headed off, back into the world of sunlight.

***

“Severus.”

Severus found his gaze, drawn however unwillingly, to meet the eyes of the old man.

“It is alright to be upset,” the old man said, and his voice was soft and calm, and Severus hated how much it calmed his agitated soul. He hated how much he had come to rely on that voice to drag himself away from his darkest thoughts. “It is a difficult time of year for us all.”

Severus said nothing, saw more than heard the sigh the caused the old man’s shoulders to droop, just slightly.

“Yes,” the old man said, more to himself now than to Severus. “A difficult time.”

“What do you need me to do?” he found himself saying.

The old man let out a little sigh. He looked old, far older than he had ever appeared to Severus.

“I need you to watch and follow Quirrell,” the old man said.

“You hired him, yet you don’t trust him.” The old man had a habit of doing that, Severus decided.

The look he received in return was tired, but Severus could see the strength hidden in them he knew few others could spot.

“We seem to have lost far too many to this job to be able to hire good teachers,” the old man said. “The curse on this position has been around for decades, now, Severus, and the number of people eager to work here has dwindled severely. So few came to me. When I interviewed Quirrell for the position before his trip abroad, he seemed fine, if a bit young. Yet I wonder, now that he is here and teaching. I wonder…”

Severus tilted his head, just slightly, his black eyes narrowed and considering. “Albania is not a pleasant place to visit, I hear.”

The old man’s eyes met his, assessing him. Neither tried to enter the other’s mind, but they prodded at the other’s shields, testing, considering.

“No,” the old man said finally, withdrawing himself mentally just enough to allow Severus to breathe easier. His eyes twinkled, but the light was dimmed with a weight Severus would never be able to understand. “No, it is not.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Severus said and hated the way he had become so willing to do as the old man requested.

“Thank you, Severus,” the old man said. A pause followed, heavy and laden with meaning. Severus knew what would come out of the old man’s mouth next and he wished the old man could keep his mouth shut.

“I know this time of year is hard,” came next, just as Severus knew it would. “Harder, now that young Harry Potter is here.”

“I do not need your words of wisdom,” Severus said, managing to avoid spitting the words out, though just barely. “I have no need of your sympathy.”

The old man bent his head in a small nod. “Then you won’t have it. I suspect Quirrell might try something tonight at the feast. Do keep an eye on him…”

Severus nodded once, small and curt, and let himself once more meet the gaze of the man he loathed with every atom in his body, the man he was bound to, the man who owned him in every way that mattered, the man who was as much his salvation as he was his curse.

Then Severus turned, left, and closed the door behind him.

***

“Severus.”

A voice cracking with pain. A voice that he both despised and revered. A voice that was tired, so tired.

He met the old man’s gaze.

“Please.”

 _“Avada Kedavra,”_ he uttered, watched the flash of green, watched the old man fall.

Everything around him was a blur. Everything was fire and screaming and crying, was the Potter boy shouting accusations at him, was the hollow feeling of grief and triumph.

And despite it all, Severus could still feel those damned blue eyes watching him, even as he fled into the darkness.


End file.
